“I’ve heard that, too, but there’s no movement when she takes the test to determine if she can go to third grade or not.”
“Crista, listen. She’s going to learn best when the pressure is off. When it’s fun. When it’s woven into her everyday life. If we force it, she’s just going to shut down. I honestly know that from experience. And that kid?” Tessa laughed. “Little Figsworth is a breath of fresh air I didn’t know I needed to inhale. What an awesome daughter you have.”
Crista drew back, totally not expecting the compliment or the genuine warmth it shot through her.
“Oh,” she said on a whisper. “Yes, thank you. She’s…special.”
“Smart as a whip, too, which isn’t unusual for our kind.” Tessa winked. “It’s easy to write off a dyslexic person as slow, but we’re not. Although it’s fun to disarm people who don’t give us enough credit.”
She was absolutely right. Nolie was bright, and she did learn better without pressure, and nothing had worked, really. And hadn’t Crista come here to try something different?
She let out a slow breath. “Okay. Fine. Do it your way. But please—please—help her.”
Tessa smiled. “Relax, Mom. We got this.” With that, she put two fingers in her mouth and let out a shrill whistle that would make a football coach proud. “Lacey! Nolie! Ladies of Tessa Wylie Events! Let’s go, we’ve got a bridal salon to launch!”
The girls came bounding back, and Crista watched as Tessa seamlessly guided the conversation back to their event. But this time, Crista saw something different. She saw how Tessa treated Nolie—not as a struggling kid, but as someone with real ideas, valuable thoughts.
Someone to be taken seriously.
“So about the ribbon wands,” Tessa said, circling back. “You think we should have different colors or try and match the dress?”
Nolie lit up just being asked her opinion. “Match the dress for sure! I hope it’s pink.”
“Me too,” Tessa said, pointing to the board. “Write down ‘ribbons that match pink dress’ so we don’t forget.”
Nolie grabbed the marker, while Crista felt her whole body tense.
With what appeared to be a whole new confidence, she marched to the whiteboard and finished the word “ribbons.”
Written not quite flawlessly, but the Bs faced the right direction.
She wrote all of it, every word, exactly as Tessa said and her P in pink was perfect. Crista’s breath caught. Her eyes burned.Okay. Maybe it’s working.
Before she could process it fully, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, praying it was Anthony and she could tell him. But her screen lit up with one word, four letters, and…horror.
Mama
“I better take this,” she murmured, throwing a look at Lacey. “It’s Maggie.”
Her niece winced, then mouthed, “Good luck.”
As Crista climbed the stairs, she kept her gaze on the scene below—Nolie writing and Tessa watching her carefully.
She knew, in that moment, that nothing—not even her mother—was going to get in the way of this.
* * *
Crista stepped into the bedroom,shutting the door quietly behind her. She let out a slow breath, pressing her back against the door before glancing at the screen of her phone. The picture of her mother, taken on her seventy-fifth birthday, stared at her from the tiny circle, a smile on her face…but it didn’t reach her eyes.
Why was she calling from the Netherlands?
Crista had no idea, but she thanked the good Lord that Maggie hadn’t quite figured out how to work FaceTime without help.
She pushed off the door, steeling herself, and finally pressed the button.
“Mama, hi! I’m so glad you got a chance to call. How’s your trip?”
“Lovely, Crista. Just beyond my wildest dreams.” Her cool, barely-there Georgia accent should have filled Crista with warmth and love. Instead, she felt nothing but dread.
